


thirteen going on thirty

by ang3lba3



Series: A Disease Called Friendship [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Post-Break Up, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, also sollux has a tiny crush on karkat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5509907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Sollux Captor, you are thirteen years old, and you and your girlfriend broke up because in another life you murdered the shit out of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thirteen going on thirty

**Author's Note:**

> i got aradia/sollux feels, and i wanted to build up relationships a bit more before the cliffhanger resolves so ;)
> 
> also if the end of the game happened when they were mmm like 17 they've got to be kicking around much older in their heads poor things

You didn’t work out.

You and Aradia, that is. Not that you worked out like physically, either, but it’s not like anything is trying to  _ kill you  _ on fucking pansy ass planet Earth, so -

It was mostly because of the nightmares. You both had them, and after a while it became all too clear that you shouldn’t be matespri-  _ in a relationship _ when you’re having nightmares about the person whose arms you wake up in.

“Why are you crying,” Karkat says, scowling. He’s so much less angry than he used to be, his heart isn’t even really into making that scowl look mad, it just looks worried. You wonder if he tired himself out in his past life or what. Maybe it’s the lack of fear over being culled. 

(Maybe it’s because he’s too worried about all of your stupid asses to be angry.)

_ (I’m not angry, son,  _ your brain whispers.  _ Just disappointed. _ )

“I am not,” you say dismissively, because you aren’t. He’s just trying to distract you from kicking his ass at Dead or Alive 5. He’s got it paused and he’ll do that dick thing where he unpauses without warning you and BAM you’re down half your life because he’s hitting you with the same atttack over and over.

(You’ll still beat his ass.) 

Karkat raises an eyebrow, wipes his finger across your cheek, and holds the glistening digit (oh God, why’d you put it like that) right fucking in front of your eyeball.

Okay, so maybe you’re crying.

“It doethn’t matter.” you reach over for his remote to get the menu off the screen so that the ass drubbing may recommence.

He grabs the remote with one hand and stretches his arm as far away from you as he can, shoves your face the other direction with the flat of his palm. 

“Fucking-”

“I’m your best friend fuckass, and if you don’t tell me I’m calling Aradia and by God she will not be as nice.”

“You would not,” you mumble.

Because that’s who you want to see right now. Your exgirlfriend. 

You jerk his head away from his hand. “It’th jutht mood swingth, okay?”

He squints those red eyes at you, stubborn lines of his scrunched up little face showing determination in every crease. 

Ugh. You knew you’d have to tell him sooner or later, and the mood swings is actually partially true, but why they’re happening is kind of…

“Aradia and me broke up.”

Karkat’s eyebrows skyrocket. “What?”

“Yeah, I know we kind of theemed like a done deal but… it’th not like we aren’t thtill friends it’s jutht that we’ve both got ithues, you know that, and… we were making each other worthe.”

God you’re such a fucking fuck up, you can’t stop crying.

It wasn’t just that both of you had ‘issues’, it was that you had killed her, and nothing you tried could get you past that. Not a whole fucking new universe could get you past that. 

Karkat has never been good at hiding his emotions, on putting on any front other than an angry one, but he won’t yell now, so it’s far too easy to see just how much this hurts him too. He gets so overly invested in all of your lives, and sometimes you just want to punch him in the face and tell him to get his own. 

Right now is not one of those times.

He isn’t gentle when he hugs you, slams you into his shoulder so hard your glasses press into your skin painfully. You relax into it limply even though that’s kind of painful, because everything is always a little painful with Karkat, and that’s familiar, and comforting, and exactly what you need. 

(He’s an asshole and sometimes goes too far, but so are you and you do too, and it wouldn’t be right any other way.)

He doesn’t say how sorry he is about what happened (you know he is), but that’s not what you want from him right now anyways. You feel like you’re a thousand pounds, and lean more and more weight on him until he’s shuffling your bodies around so he’s flat on the couch and you’re on top of him.

Fuck, but it feels so good to cry when someone holds you.

You’d never really done this with anyone but Aradia, and that was rare as shit - she wasn’t your moirail, after all, and when she got all pale on you it freaked you out even more. 

(You know that pale affection isn’t uncommon in humans’ version of red romance but you’re thirteen and still struggling to understand something that utterly different. That’s your excuse and you’re sticking to it, even if you’re really probably more like… shit, thirty in your head. God you’re fucking old.)

But the warmth and the quiet strength and the comfort of someone else’s arms hugging you is overwhelming and makes you cry even harder and you hate yourself more than anything in the world, and you hate that you’re so weak in front of your best friend of all people, but… you’re not sure you would change anything that led to the cleansing feel of this cry.

Usually crying is - it’s a last resort. You freak out even more when you taste the alien salt and water on your lips and the disturbingly cool temperature, completely unlike the coppery bitter taste and fire hot streaks that should be coating your face. 

This is like taking a cold bath when you’re sick, and all the poison in you is soaking out and into Karkat’s shirt, and every sob lets out a little more of that seemingly bottomless well of sick.

(Karkat just holds you, rubs his hands up and down your back slowly, soothingly, and you envy Gamzee, because this isn’t even fully pale, and you have  _ really  _ got to figure out your quadrants if this is what having a moirail is like.)

(You kind of forget that quadrants aren’t a thing anymore, sometimes, and that Karkat and Gamzee aren’t  _ really  _ moirails, they’re just best friends.)

“It’s gonna be okay,” Karkat says quietly, finally speaking when you’ve mostly cried yourself out and you feel dehydrated and light and cleaned out.

“I know,” you say, even though you don’t, really. 

“Did you take your afternoon med?” Karkat asks.

Shiit. 

You laugh, exhausted. “No,” you mutter.

“You’re a fucking moron,” Karkat informs you grimly, like he was telling you you had cancer or some shit. 

“You’re a fucking moron,” you say back weakly, and he gently rolls you off of him and onto the floor, and he’s your best friend and you pity him so hard for a second you feel faint.

You stare at the ceiling, and the feeling fades, but the echo of it is still there and you squeeze your eyes shut and hate everything.

A foot kicks you lightly in the side maybe a minute later, and you open your eyes to see Karkat standing over you with a pill in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, and you force yourself to stand, and let him take care of you.

Because that’s what friends do.

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr at [this gorgeous blog ;)](ang3lba3.tumblr.com)


End file.
